


HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

by jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Gambling, LISTEN TO THE FUCKING SONG, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, alternate universe - 1950's america, dominant uke armin, sorta dom and sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle/pseuds/jean_huh_kirschnickerdoodle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There's a house in sin city they call the Rising Sun. And its been the ruin of many a poor boy, and god knows that I am one.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Jean's a gambling man, never having lost a bet in his life. When Armin charms him out of his money, the stakes are higher than ever, finding himself chained to the beautiful dealer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheOrgasmicSeke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrgasmicSeke/gifts).



> *cries* adddyyy this is your fault ~~thank you~~
> 
> anyone who is curious, [this is the car](http://www.vaultcars.com/wp-content/uploads/55Cad8passenger-009.jpg) Jean is driving.
> 
> LISTEN TO THE FUCKING [SONG](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lL00dGWdQXc)
> 
> i only tagged the characters that speak so uh sorry?

_The House of The Rising Sun_

Jean smirked as he read the words, the yellow sign glowing in the dying sunlight, fluorescent light bathing the dark parking lot. He couldn’t help the way his golden eyes drank in the casino, a hawk watching its prey scurry across the desert. Helpless in his claws.

“Come on _Jean-bo_ ,” A hand ruffling Jean’s hair pulled him out of his thoughts, “Ya just gonna ogle her or are we gonna actually go deflower her?”

“I told you not to call me that!” He grimaced, slapping his friend’s hand away, running his hands back over his hair to slick it back into place. His grimace soon turned back into a hungry grin, gold eyes glinting as he looked back up at the casino through the windshield. “Let’s go get our plunder, shall we?”

He didn’t wait for Connie’s answer, knowing he’d climb out once the brunet did. Throwing his jacket in the back, he grabbed his fedora, its crimson ribbon a stark contrast to the black hat. He tugged at the white sleeves of his shirt, deft hands smoothing down the front of his black vest, dusting non-existent filth from his pinstripe slacks. An arrogant smirk tugged at his lips as he looked over his reflection in the window of his ’55 Cadillac DeVille, not sure which of them looked prettier.

“You look fabulous, now ya gonna help me _Jean-bo_ —”

“I told you not to call me that.” Jean stared at him, eyes unflinching as he pushed the muzzle of his handgun to the soft underside of his wingman’s jaw.

“Yeah, yeah, no one but Mama Kirsch, geez.”

Jean stared a moment longer, the twitch in the corner of his mouth giving him away before he lowered the gun, taking a moment to holster it against his ribcage.

Connie snickered, fingers running over his buzzed hair and his large hazel eyes looking over the contents of the trunk. There wasn’t much; blankets and pillows, a change of clothes, a suitcase, and more guns than they’d use, one less as he tucked the two-shot Derringer against his calf. They were good shots, Jean one of the best, but both carried their guns more for looks and a possible emergency situation they had yet to find themselves in. There’d be no dealing with Mama Kirsch if one of them came back dead.

“Here,” Connie held out the suitcase to Jean, letting him inspect it as if they hadn’t already more times than necessary. He gently pressed a gray pinstripe fedora onto his head, matching perfectly to his suit.

“Let’s go.” The brunet grinned, slamming the trunk shut and heading toward the door, knowing Connie would follow him as he had since they were children.

They pushed through the dark-red wooden doors, the sudden rush of music, smoke, and laughter overwhelming, almost suffocating. They had seen underground gambling dens, high-end casinos with girls with flamingo tails, even a few western taverns, but nothing like this. This was all-encompassing, a completely different world than the one they had been in only moments earlier.

The walls were the darkest red Jean had ever seen, rich and luscious, the carpet almost black it was so deep a red, even the felt of the table-tops was a gorgeous red. He couldn’t help but try to ignore exactly _why_ they would need it such a hue; better to hide the blood with. Every pillar, every corner, and every table was trimmed with bronzed crown molding, so intricate, unique, and detailed it could only have been hand-carved by the most gifted carpenter.

The brunet’s head spun as the atmosphere enveloped him. The air was stifling, the overwhelming scents of mingling incense, smoke, perfume, and the nearly unbearable mixture of sweaty men that were a little too hands on, and the heavy alcohol used to subdue them.

Two women smiled at him, greeting him and waiting to take his money. One was a short blond in a tight dress with a wide slit up the front of her deep red skirt, the knife strapped to her thigh catching the light. Not that she needed to show it, the way she stared up at him with those cold eyes, he didn’t think she’d hesitate to use it. The other was a brunette, nearly as tall as him and the low back of her dress and slit that trailed up over her hips only accentuated the fact, the stilettos strapped to her feet certainly capable of crushing a man’s jugular. Her cheeks were freckled, eyes watching him hungrily, daring him to make her use the gun openly strapped to her thigh.

Threatening as they were, they simply watched as the two of them passed, pointing him toward the exchange counter, as if the large sign that read BANK wasn’t obvious enough. The man behind the counter didn’t look any older than the girls who greeted him, or Jean himself. Barely legal adults, certainly. His hair was dark, eyes such a deep green he could barely tell in the darkness, and he had a nervous air about him that made Jean cautious. A nervous animal was a dangerous animal.

“Will you be leaving your case with us tonight, ser?”

Jean didn’t realize just how tall he was until he stepped fully to the counter, having to look quite a bit up to meet his eyes. He shook off his awe, opening the case and turning it toward the nervous man, who only looked more so after seeing it was full of money. A man his age, with that kind of cash? There were few ways to get such a haul, fewer that were legal.

“A-all of it?”

Jean and Connie both grinned, leaning onto the counter. “Don’t worry, we’ll be leaving with more.”

The raven haired man only nodded, swallowing hard enough that Jean was certain he had heard it. After a moment, he stashed the suitcase as was customary, instead giving the gamblers a small box with neat rows of chips. Extra insurance that they couldn’t just run off, they’d have to return for their case.

“Enjoy your stay, sers.”

Jean nodded, fingers tilting his hat just so as they took the small box of chips, heading toward the main floor. It was almost deafening, the raucous laughter and screams as people played roulette. A disappointed roar in the crowd around the craps table caught the brunet’s attention. The house had won, a beautiful man with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen – and hair dyed to match – smiled with more than a little pleasure as the small blond dropped to his knees in front of the dealer. If the heeled boot drifting up the blond’s thigh meant anything, he had clearly been betting more than just his money. There was something in the way the blond’s hands twitched with need to touch the body in front of him, Jean wondered if he wasn’t more than a little satisfied with his ‘loss.’

The brunet turned away, knowing it best not to be distracted even if he was more than a little curious. They pushed their way past the blackjack table, mostly men dressed similar to them, with their scotch and their whiskey and their cigars, a scantily clad woman from the House sitting on their lap and proving to be a satisfying distraction.

He wasn’t bad a blackjack, hell, Jean wasn’t bad at anything that involved people. He could charm the best; he had the looks, the arrogance, and the know-how, and for what he lacked he had the best wingman a gambler could ask for. No one could read people like Connie. Nobody.

Roulette and Craps were entertaining, but they were, well, a gamble. They were all luck, and Jean didn’t place bets on Lady Luck, however beautiful and alluring she might have been. Blackjack’s crew was too shady, too much smoke and alcohol and ‘if you’re not drinking it’s not an even game’.

“There.” Connie nudged him, pointing him toward a table in the corner. Hold ‘Em.

Jean grinned as his eyes caught on the table, gold hawk eyes glinting up from under the shadow of his hat.

There were a few others at the table, a middle-aged man with dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and scruff. The heavy scotch in his hand and the slump of his shoulders proved he was either tired with life or losing badly, perhaps both. The other two seemed to know each other, opting to sit in adjacent seats instead of keeping a space between them. They looked to be about his age, the man quiet and serious, a horrible undercut that almost made Jean embarrassed for having one, at least the brunet wore it well. The woman with him, who would uncross and re-cross her ankles when she had a good hand, had dirty-dishwater blonde hair and a smile that was more sneer than anything.

“Will you be joining this hand, sers?” The dealer smiled, his carribean-green eyes glinting as a soft smile spread over his lips. His skin was naturally tan, hair an almost-black mess on his head. The white button up shirt fastened around his wrists, and he kept it buttoned up to the neck. A black vest held tightly to his body, and though Jean couldn’t see his legs behind the table, he assumed he had black slacks on. It seemed to be the common dress code for the male dealers.  

“Just me.” Jean sat directly across from the dealer, leaving an empty seat on either side of him. Connie stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes shaded, focused on the littlest of movements among the other players and the House.

“Very well, ser.” He nodded, green eyes almost closing as he turned them to the deck he was shuffling, the cards flipping impressively fast through his fingers, twisting his wrist to reverse shuffle them and prevent them from bending. He repeated it a few more times, neither he nor Jean taking his eyes off the cards as a tiny blonde with the big voice took the nearby stage. He wasn’t here for the entertainment, he was here to clean house.

The dealer, Eren he had heard the blonde call him, dealt them five cards each. It began as it always did. They placed their blinds and they set to work. It wasn’t difficult, not with these players. The woman was loud and needy for attention, and Jean knew how to smirk just so to leave them more than a little intrigued. Every wink he gave her, every low chuckle, or gentle caress of her fingers that hovered over her chips left her grinning and left her fiancé grinding his teeth and ready to blow his top. They were easy to push over the edge and steal their money. She was good, he’d give her that, even with his flirting it didn’t push her into doing something stupid. But she had that tell, and with every hand her other half was grumbling and trying to end the game already.

The older man didn’t need any help, however. His suit would imply he was well-off, but he was easy to read. When he was doing well he’d bet fifty over the blinds, and when he got a bad hand, he’d take a heavy swig of his scotch. He was drunk and just here to pass the time, pissing away his money into the House that was more extravagant than anything in his piss-poor private investigations office.

Eventually they cashed out, leaving just Jean and Eren, Connie leisurely relaxed on one of the stools watching carefully. It wouldn’t be hard to give Jean signals. Not that he needed them. He had won more hands than not, more than the House, and found himself almost bored with the game. It was no fun with no mouse to bat around.

Eren was too easy to play, he was too expressive. Each time Jean won, his brows would furrow and the brunet thought he’d heard him growl at him once. And those big green eyes, expressive and beautiful as they were, glimmered when the turn would reveal a bad hand, only to darken when Jean would hit a straight on the river.

“River rat…” Eren grumbled, and Jean was certain he’d meant it as an insult, but all he could do was laugh in response. In all his years conning and gambling, and he’d been doing it since his numbers were in the single digits, he’d never seen a dealer so unprofessional. And easy. Even when his dad was teaching him in the backroom of his mother’s tailor shop, he’d never seen someone so sloppy.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jean grinned, almost sneering up at him. If he lost his cool, Jean would get a lot more than just his earnings.

“I said you were—” Eren’s shout was cut off as long fingers clamped down onto his shoulders.

“That’s enough, Eren.”

Jean couldn’t help the way his eyes latched onto the blond now standing behind the table. He was no more than a couple inches shorter than himself, his long blond hair dusting his narrow, but strong, shoulders. Three dark pins held back one side of his golden locks, allowing the light from above to catch on the black diamond studs – three of them – that decorated his lobe. Around his peach, soft neck was a black choker, serving its purpose to draw the eyes to that tender flesh and yet almost tease anyone who was looking. It begged to ripped off, only to reveal the unmarred flesh that no man could resist marking as his own.

 “I’ll take over from here.” He smiled at Jean, cunning and calculating. “My name is Armin.”

Long fingers slid carefully over the choker, hooking oh-so casually onto the shining silver chain around his neck, fingers the front clasp in a way that left Jean’s eyes following the chain that dipped into the front of the blond’s shirt. He wore the same white button-up and black vest, rolling the sleeves up his forearms, and keeping the top few buttons undone. The brunet couldn’t help but look, the taut chest just barely peeking from the top, sharp collarbone looking more edible than he imagined, and he couldn’t help but notice the edge of a tattoo peeking out.

“And we’re supposed to just assume this i’n’t some cheatin’ move?” Connie tilted his head, the light catching his eyes under the brim of his hat.

Armin only smirked, nodding. He walked the small trip to get a fresh deck of cards, Jean watching him the entire way. Certainly he was watching him to ensure there was no foul-play, and not at all because his slacks had been altered in a way that squeezed his ass and thighs and left Jean thinking they looked perfectly biteable.

“Fair enough?” Blue eyes looked up at him from under fringed bangs, the soft smile not reaching them. Those were the eyes of a predator. Every fiber of Jean screamed to flee, fly away hawk or meet your end in the jowls of the wolf. And yet, he couldn’t move, he was trapped, pinned under paws and enamored by eyes far too cunning for anyone to be safe.

Long fingers, decorated with bands made of gold and brightly colored mineral stone, held the sealed deck out to Connie. He eyed the blond suspiciously, perhaps already defeated after seeing the way Jean was enthralled by the incubus. Yet, there were no flaws in the new deck, and he opened it himself before handing it back to the blond, who merely nodded his thanks.

Shifting his weight onto one leg, his fingers shuffled the cards in the same manner as Eren before spreading them out over the table, the edges barely overlapping, the gold bands around his wrists clanking as he easily flipped the end card, the others following suit. He flipped them once more before pushing them neatly together and shuffling them for the last time. Jean watched his hands closely, those long languid fingers that left his mind wandering with what else they might be talented at, only vaguely aware of the eyes that watched him closely as he dealt the both of them five cards.

Suddenly aware of the game in front of him, Jean furrowed his brows, looking up at him in confusion.

“What are you—”

“What,” Armin paused just a moment, his fingers playing with the chain around his neck, “Don’t you want to _play_ with me?” A smirk tugged at the corner of those pink lips, parting just barely.

Jean swallowed hard, clearing his throat and sitting up in his chair, trying to focus on the game in front of him. He could feel Connie’s eyes on him, knowingly. The brunet won the first hand, but the way those blue eyes looked down at him, he wondered if it was really his skills that had won or if it had been given to him.

Armin didn’t hesitate to deal again, giving them both cards just as before, and Jean was vaguely aware of a tall, scruffy male in a suit watching them closely. Someone employed by the House, checking for cheaters mostly likely.

“Bet or fold.”

Jean’s eyes were pulled to those lips, the voice smooth and alluring, white teeth nibbling on his lower lip, hungry eyes locked onto the brunet’s own lips.

“Bet.” He hadn’t even checked what the bet was before matching, nor had he checked the cards, and ended up losing a thousand dollars in one hand.

“Oh, and here I thought you might have had some,”Armin licked his lips thoughtfully, lids heavy, fingers slowly sliding one of his rings up and down the length of his middle finger, knowing Jean’s sight had shifted to them. “ _Talent._ ”

The blond was quiet for the next few hands, steadily taking Jean’s chips, teeth worrying his lips that never seemed to stop smirking, eyes begging Jean to be fucked. Connie was loud, trying to pull Jean out of his stupor, and yet all the brunet could hear was the dealer. All he could see was that beautiful man that stood in front of him, taking his money.

“Looks like you’re almost out of chips,” Armin hummed, quirking an eyebrow. “So are you pulling out or,” He leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his palm and tilting his head knowingly at Jean. “Are you all in?”

Jean could feel his throat tighten, swallowing becoming difficult and fuck was it hot in the casino. Or maybe it was just the way the blond affected him. He knew he should pull out, but his eyes drifted to the blond’s neck, strong and soft and the light catching on the sheen of sweat in the most delicious way, leaving the brunet the wonder what must his skin smell like with another pressed against it, what would he _taste_ like, and, fuck, how amazing it would feel to run his tongue over that skin, sinking his teeth in and making him his own.

“All-in.”

Armin perked up, pushing off the table and dealing the hand, leaning in a way that pressed his hips against the inside of the shirt that was tight enough to show his form beneath it. Jean knew Connie was protesting and grumbling, but couldn’t hear him over the thoughts of gripping those hips and pressing that lean body against a wall, pushing into him and tasting the flesh under all that hair.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Armin smirked, no part of him seeming sorry. “House wins.”

Jean swallowed, as if just realizing what had happened. The House had played him, and played him hard. In more than one way. He stood, brushing his fingers through his hair before replacing his fedora on his head. He wasn’t sure what to say, he’d never lost before and even now all he wanted to say was how fucking sexy he found the blond, who clearly knew what he was doing to him.

“Here,” Armin grabbed a hundred dollar chip, pressing his lips to it slowly, fingers holding it out Jean, winking effortlessly at the brunet. “Come back and play with me sometime.”

Jean didn’t fully remember Connie dragging him out of the casino, getting their grossly empty suitcase on the way out. He didn’t remember his wingman pushing him into the car, or him driving forty miles east and away from the House of the Rising Sun.

His focus remained on the chip in his hand, the one he refused to let Connie cash in before the left. The chip that had had those luscious lips on it, the chip that now vaguely smelled like what Jean assumed was Armin. And damn did he smell good.

“Jean, are you even listenin’?” The brunet looked up, clearly he hadn’t been. “What happened back there? You haven’t lost like that in, well, ever!”

He couldn’t blame Connie, he was right. He’d lost more money than he’d like to admit back there. And all because of a pretty face and some soft lips?

_And those fucking hands…and that skin…and those eyes…_

“I’m going back.”

“What.”

Jean’s eyes finally lifted from the chip. “Take me back.”

“Like hell, you’ve got nothing more to bet. No pretty face is worth that.”

The brunet shifted, brows furrowing and eyes unwavering. “Take. Me. Back.”

Connie said nothing for a few minutes, eventually pulling into an empty parking lot. “Take yourself.” He sighed, pushing out of the car and digging into the trunk, pulling some money from their safety stash. Jean watched him closely, no longer sure of his ability to read people. “You want him, you go get him. I’ll take the train. I have someone waiting for me at home, after all.”

Jean grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Give Sasha my regards. Ma, too.”

Connie cringed, nodding. “She’s not gonna be happy about this.”

“I’m sure you can handle a tailor.”

The shorter man deadpanned up at his best friend. “A tailor who was married to a gambler and has helped hide criminals from the cops for decades.”

“You’ll be fine.”

Their goodbyes were short, Connie getting on the last train out and Jean turning back towards sin city. He had no money, and no idea what he was doing. He had charmed more than a few poor souls out of their wallets, but never had he been so charmed before. He wanted that beautiful creature.

He didn’t hesitate as he slammed his car in park, throwing the doors to the casino open. It was reckless and thoughtless, but if he stopped to work it over in his mind he’d overthink it and that’s when people lost their money. The ladies at the door shouted after him, the taller one gripping his wrist, Jean jerking his arm free and ignoring their protests. The money-handler was on the phone, calling security, he was certain.

It didn’t matter. The people didn’t matter. The crowds, the drunks, the whores, even the cute girl on the stage. None of it mattered. He wanted his catch, and dammit he was going to dive for it, claws open and beak ready to devour him.

Jean found himself staring at a tall man, arms crossed over his chest and his suit clinging to his bulky build. It was obvious even through the suit that he was all muscle, his brows sharp and heavy, narrow hazel eyes glaring down at him, his short blond hair catching the light and not nearly as alluring as the blond he was seeking. If he wasn’t so enthralled, he’d be intimidated by the man who outweighed him by a good fifty pounds.

“Let me through.” The guard said nothing, only staring. “Let me the fuck through! I need to see him.”

“Who?”

“The dealer. The one with the pretty hair and hungry eyes and perfect lips – fuck those lips…” Jean shook his head. “Armin. Let me fucking see him. Now.” His words came out a demanding growl, and at this point people were starting to take notice.

“Kid—” Large, strong hands gripped his wrist, pushing his sleeves up past the crook of his arms, checking for marks. “What are you on?”

“On? What I’m not—”

“Is there a problem here, Reiner?” It was the tall man Jean had seen earlier, with the scruffy face, dirty blond hair hanging low into his eyes.

“Wants to see Sunshine.”

The taller man quirked an eyebrow, moving close to Jean and the brunet thought for sure this was it, they were going to take him out and beat him beyond recognition and ban him from ever coming back. Instead, he leaned down, large nose inhaling close enough to his ear that Jean could hear it. He jumped back, eyes wide and thoroughly unsettled. The man didn’t say anything, only smiled and nodded with satisfaction before disappearing behind a fogged glass door.

“You must be something special to get to see the House Favorite.” The guard’s voice was as low as Jean had expected it to be, yet was not unkind.

“Wait what…what does that mean!?” The bouncer didn’t answer, but Jean thought he saw his lips quirk just the slightest.

“You?” Jean jumped, turning to see Armin coming out of the door that the tall man had just entered. He smirked, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway. “I know I said come back, but this?”

“I came to see you.”

The blond’s smirk remained, that toying glimmer having yet to leaves his blue eyes. “How very bold of you.”

“It’s just I—and the way you looked – and we—”

Armin moved toward him, the brunet looking up at him from where he had fallen after jerking away from the scruffy man. He looked down at him like he was nothing but a plaything. Arms still crossed over his chest, he lifted his foot to push against Jean’s collarbone, heel of his boot digging into his chest and pinning him against the wall. The blond didn’t flinch, eyes unwavering and not an ounce of guilt for the wince that was plaguing the brunet’s face.

“Presumptuous.” The word fell from those perfect lips, and Jean thought it was tinged with disgust.

Jean worried the inside of his lip, golden eyes lifting to look at the blond, desperately filling his mind. “Play a game with me.”

Armin looked at him curiously, quirking an eyebrow. He fingered the chain around his neck as he leaned forward, drawing Jean’s eyes to his collarbone. “Pup, I already took everything you have,” He let out a little mirthless laugh, the first hint of amusement in his eyes that Jean had seen since they met. “What do you intend to bet?”

“Me.”

“What.” Something flashed behind those blue eyes, genuinely surprised.

“I bet myself.”

Armin stood up straight, eyeing him carefully. He lowered his boot, standing with his feet wide on each side of Jean’s legs. “Yourself, huh?”

The blond gripped Jean’s jaw, thumb running along his lower lip, stilling when they opened, the brunet’s tongue slipping out around it, his teeth scraping gently over the back of the appendage. Something shifted behind those blue eyes, and if ever Jean were to be smart, now would be the time to run.

“Come play a _private game_ with me.”

Armin didn’t wait to see if he followed, knowing he would. Always the enamored hawk. He led Jean away from the main area, up a twisting staircase and into what the brunet could only assume was the blond’s room. It was dark, everything a delicious chocolate instead of the red of the main room.

There was no time for him to take in much of anything else before a hand pushed against the heel-bruise on his shoulder, shoving his back against the door. Before he could fully register the pain, Armin’s lips were pressed against his, teeth gnawing at his lip and fingers gripping his jaw hard enough to encourage him to part his lips, the blond pushing his tongue between them.

His mind reeled, cheeks flushed as long hands pressed flush against the door beside his head, the blond tilting his head and pushing desperately into his mouth, body pushing against Jean’s. Strong hands moved to those hips that were pushing against his, only to be pushed away. Jean looked at him questioning, and he only smirked.

“I didn’t say you could do that.” He didn’t wait for a response, mashing his lips back against Jean’s. The kiss was heavy and hungry and left the brunet’s mind in a daze. Everywhere the blond’s body touched sprung to life, heat coursing through his skin, and fuck did he want to touch him. Not that he didn’t try, every time resulting in having his hands knocked away.

Eventually Armin grew sick of it, pulling back and letting out a little growl. He gripped Jean’s wrists, pinning them none-too-gently against the door. He pushed his body harder against Jean’s, pushing just onto his toes to give enough leverage to overpower the brunet, biting hungrily at his lips.

“Armin—I—want to—touch—” Jean tried desperately to speak between kisses, his body aching and fingers twitching with a need to touch him.

The blond pulled back, his cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen. Rolling his eyes, he hooked his fingers in Jean’s vest, throwing him surprisingly easily onto the bed, watching him bounce and stare up at him disoriented. “Strip.”

“Wh—”

“Take. Your fucking clothes. Off.”

Jean complied, hands fumbling with the buttons of his vest and shirt, managing to push them off and down to the floor.  Armin growled impatiently, pushing him down onto the bed and undoing the belt and button on his pants without so much as blinking, gesturing to Jean to push them to the floor. The blond smirked, eyeing Jean’s toned, naked body, humming with satisfaction.

“Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad bet, after all.”

Jean pushed himself up, scooting off the edge of the bed. It didn’t matter that he was stark naked – he wasn’t exactly shy – he just wanted to touch him. To trace his fingers over those hips and taste that collarbone. As soon as he reached out to grip his hips, he felt a boot hook behind his knee, looking up just long enough to see that smirk before his world shifted and he found himself flat on his back.

The brunet tried to take a harsh breath, the sudden shift and pain leaving him breathless. Instead, he found a boot pressed against his sternum, holding him firmly to the ground.

“Someone must teach such a misbehaving little pup some discipline.”

Jean looked up at him, certain there was fear in his eyes, and certain that it pleased Armin. He shivered, fighting the urge to touch the blond as he slide his boot down his body, moving to press it gently against his cock, trapping him between his stomach and the hard rubber sole. The brunet’s breath shuddered in his chest, having no choice but to obey.

“Oh, what a very good boy. Now,” He smirked devilishly. “Let me hear your voice.” Gently, he moved his foot, just barely keeping pressure against it.

“What the—” Jean felt a gasp push from his lips, his hard cock pressing against his stomach feeling better than it should have.

Armin chuckled, a low, unmistakably sensual sound. “Very good.” He stepped over Jean, between him and the bed, and the brunet instinctively sat up. “Stay.” As if the command wasn’t enough, he pushed down onto his chest hard, leaving a red boot imprint before moving out of Jean’s sight.

“Look at you listening like such a good boy.” Armin tilted his head, the smile on his lips causing Jean’s cock to twitch. “Perhaps you deserve a reward, hmm?”

Once again that boot pressed against Jean’s chest, the toe pushing just enough against his windpipe to leave him unsettled. He kept his foot pressing down, watching Jean’s face carefully as his fingers worked over his own vest and shirt, tossing them to the side. The brunet swallowed hard, throat pushing against Armin’s boot as he eyed the blond. That supple, lithe body was taut, skin tight over lean sculpted muscle, jewelry glinting against it, a pair of wings tattooed just under his right collarbone.

“Like what you see, gambler?” He smirked, body stretching as he reached under his hair, unlatching first the choker and then the chain, tossing them carelessly onto the bed.

“Yes. God yes.”

Armin laughed again, that same sensual chuckle that left Jean’s stomach in knots. His fingers slowly undid his pants, pushing them down low enough on his hips that they were straining on his bulge. “I should hope he’s not the one you’re thinking about.”

The blond stepped over him, quickly removing his shoes and sliding his pants to the floor before stepping out of them.

“Now,” He stepped wide over Jean’s chest, not missing the way those golden eyes locked onto his cock, the way the brunet licked his lipsm, leaving him grinning. “How should I reward you…”

Jean watched as Armin chewed his lip before lowering himself onto the brunet’s chest. The blond’s legs were firm, pinning his arms against the ground. Long, ringed fingers caressed hips that were close enough to his face that he could feel his heat, smell the musk from his skin. Yet all his eyes could focus on was the rather impressive cock hanging in his face, a bead of precum formed at the tip.

Not caring if he was berated for it, Jean lifted his head, tongue lapping out and pressing against the head of Armin’s cock. The blond gasped, the reaction in the way he twitched and leaked undeniable. The brunet grinned, only to audibly wince when long fingers wrapped in his hair, tugging his head back.

“Did I fucking tell you, you could do that?” He smirked at the sound of pain he pulled from Jean’s lips, his fingers squeezing his jaw hard enough to open his mouth. Armin shifted his hips, gingerly wrapping his fingers around his shaft, pushing the head against the other’s lips.

Jean eyes were cloudy, lids heavy with lust and he more than willingly parted his lips when Armin pressed the head of his dick to his mouth. He rolled his tongue around the tip, lifting his head to suck as much of him as he could into his mouth. One palm pressed flush beside his head, and the brunet couldn’t help but hum in pleasure at the small pants and the jolting of the blond’s hips above him.

Armin watched for a moment, relishing the way Jean let him thrust into his mouth, the way the brunet’s saliva was dripping down from his lips, and the way his cheeks and ears were flushed red. He smirked, knowing he was going to make the gambler his own.

Careful not to pull away, he reached to grab the small bottle of lube he had dug out of the nightstand. Flipping the cap open, he filled his palm and massaged it over his fingers. Twisting just enough, he reached behind himself, slipping a familiar finger inside of his already twitching hole. A sharp gasp pushed from his lips when he forced a second one in, impatient.

Gold eyes snapped open, looking up at him with a heady need filling them. He didn’t look away, pushing his fingers further inside himself, scissoring them and stretching himself in a way that left him aching for more. It was never enough. A small strangled moan pushed from his lips, hips rocking forward into Jean’s mouth and then back onto his fingers.

Jean’s cock bounced, precum dripping onto his stomach as he felt the warm liquid dripping onto his chest. He lifted his hands to Armin’s thighs, just barely able to dig his claws in, still pinned.

“F-Fuck…” Armin’s breath hitched as Jean gripped him harshly, sucking with more fervor that previously, fingers certainly desperate to touch himself. “Enough.” The blond smirked, gripping Jean’s hair and pulling from his mouth, a satisfying string of saliva snapping from his cock.

The brunet tried to sit up, only to find a strong, slender hand aggressively shoving him back to the floor. Armin shifted back, lifted from his knees and using the lubed hand to stroke Jean’s shaft, savoring the gasp he elicited. Without anymore warning than that, he spread himself, lowering down onto Jean’s cock.

He couldn’t stop the low moan that pushed from his lips, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through his entire body. He could feel the way Jean quivered below him, his blue eyes moving to watch the soundless moan push from those lips as he took him into himself fully. Armin didn’t move, shivering at the way Jean filled him, the way his ass pulsed around the other’s cock.

“You’re being _such_ a good boy,” Armin smirked, pressing his hands to Jean’s chest, palms flat against his warm skin. “You deserve a _ride_.” The blond lifted his hips on the last word, lowering quickly back onto his cock and ignoring the way his own twitched at the sound it pushed from the brunet’s lips.

“F-fuck, Armin~”

The blond chuckled, leaning down and running his tongue over Jean’s lips. “That’s the plan.”

He straightened back up, never taking his eyes off of Jean as he rolled his hips. Every movement he made elicited the smallest, most delicious little gasp from the brunet’s lips and left his cock twitching. Armin shivered as strong hands gripped his hips, and he let them, relishing the warmth from those deft hands, the way they kneaded his cheeks and spread him even more, Jean lifting his hips from below him to push further into him.

“A-ah—Shit, Jean, don’t—” Armin gasped as the brunet spread him further, angling just right, and most likely on accident, to rub against that bundle of nerves that sent a jolt of nearly painful pleasure through his body. His nails dug into Jean’s chest, hazy eyes not missing the way the other looked up at him like the cat-that-just-ate-the-fucking-canary.

Before the blond could give an order, Jean reached up and gripped the back of his neck, pulling him down into a needy, desperate kiss. Their tongues pushed against each other, lapping over their lips and tasting every part of each other that they could manage. Deft hands drifted from the thick blond hair down Armin’s well-muscled back, slipping to harshly dig his fingers into his cheeks. A heady moan pushed from those perfect lips, Jean taking it as permission to continue.

Keeping his grip on the blond’s pert ass, he rocked his hips, lifting his own to thrust into Armin as he lowered him onto his cock. A strangled moan pushed from the other’s lips, leaving Jean grinning. He shivered, a stuttered moan pushing from his own lips as he slammed into Armin again. The blond was tight around him, his ass pulsing and tightening with him inside, hot wet flesh squeezing against his cock in a way that left him struggling to focus enough to continue to fuck him.

Armin wasn’t fighting anymore, quivering against him, his body twitching, a moan pushing from his lips each time Jean slammed into him, the force breaking the sound coming from the blond.

“Jean~” Long fingers dug into Jean’s hair, nails scraping against his scalp and over his undercut, his head pushed back and his body arched to open his hips, as if his body was begging Jean to keep fucking him. Hell, it was.

The dealer breathed heavily, just trying to keep himself from being thrown forward with the way the other was pounding into him. It was voracious, and it fucking amazing. Every pass left his cock leaking and the muscles in his body twitching and begging for release. He could feel himself tightening around Jean, and wasn’t sure how that was even possible. He hadn’t been stretched this wide, felt this full for longer than he cared to remember. Jean was pushing against every fiber inside him, controlling him in a way he didn’t let anyone, going as far as squeezing his cheeks together as he lifted him, spreading them almost painfully wide as he slammed back into him, forcing the blond’s vision to flash white.

And then there were the teeth. Jean leaning in to taste his neck, his collarbone, his chest. Those open mouthed kisses and curious licks quickly turned into rough nips and claiming bites, suckling and bruising the flesh until his chest was littered with red marks.

“F-fuck, Armin, you feel so good—” Jean’s voice cut off, a moan pushing from his chest. “I’m close.”

Armin smirked to himself, forcing himself up and prying Jean’s hands from his ass – certain he was going to have perfect handprint bruises come morning.

“I thought I promised you a ride.”

Steadying himself on Jean’s torso, Armin pooled what little focus he had left, forcing his legs to work and hips to move. Jean was close, and fuck if he wasn’t almost there himself. Licking his lips, he stifled a shiver at the way those gold eyes looked like they were going to devour him. He forced himself up before lowering back onto Jean, feeling the brunet lift his hips to meet his movements.

 A gasp pushed from his lips, almost a cry as the brunet pushed deep into him, cock rubbing agonizingly against that spot that left him blind and set his core on fire. His fingers dug into Jean’s darker flesh, relishing the way his abs quivered under his finger tips. He grinned breathlessly up at the other, putting all his energy into finishing him off, practically bouncing on Jean’s cock, his hips twitching and ass tightening around him.

“F-Fuck, Arm—ah—” Jean gripped Armin’s hips hard, thrusting up into him, some need to be fully enveloped by that heat as he felt his cock pulse within him, filling him with hot cum.

Armin only smirked with satisfaction, shifting onto his knees and rolling his hips, ass tight as he milked every drop from Jean’s cock. His fingers wrapped around his own sorely neglected cock, stroking slowly, thumb rolling over the slit with each pass. He paced his hand in time with his hips, angling just right to rub Jean’s cum-covered cock against his sweet spot.

He felt his torso tense, hips trembling as his hand moved faster, Jean managing to thrust into him when Armin could no longer control his movements. His gasps turned into a series and loud, desperate moans, mouth falling open and his free hand digging into Jean’s chest, his own cum making a mess of Jean’s naked torso.

Neither of them moved for a moment, their chests heaving and bodies trembling, the smell of sweat and cum and sex filling the room.

Armin was smirking down at Jean once more, pulling his darker hair back and leaning in to run his tongue over his neck, pulse visible in his throat. Grinning, he sank his teeth into the tender flesh, biting until he felt something give and tasted iron on his tongue. Jean was moaning again, almost inaudible, his hands kneading Armin’s ass. The blond could only grin, moving to speak into his ear, voice quiet and husky.

“You belong to me now.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> im probably going to draw this at some point cause hot damn jean (✧‿✧✿)


End file.
